Private Foundations Beneath Ash

[Meri Vale]

The wind across Ossus carried dust differently than most worlds Meri had visited.

It did not howl through the ruins in violent gusts or sweep the landscape clean in great storms. Instead, it moved slowly and persistently through the shattered remains of the old Jedi world, settling into broken corridors and fractured courtyards as though the planet itself had spent centuries trying to bury what remained beneath layers of silence.

Meri stood several meters from the ruin with her satchel resting against her hip and her attention fixed entirely on the structure before her.

Even half-collapsed, it retained a kind of deliberate dignity.

The remains of the building rose from the pale stone around it in fractured levels and leaning walls, portions of the upper structure having fallen inward long ago while sections of the lower foundation still endured beneath drifting sediment and time-worn debris. The entrance itself was partially buried, framed by cracked columns whose surviving carvings had been softened by age but not erased entirely.

She did not approach immediately.

Instead, her eyes moved carefully across the ruin, tracing lines and angles with quiet intensity as she mapped its structure internally before ever setting foot inside. Hallways aligned too symmetrically to be accidental. Exterior support placements implied interior chambers beyond what was visible from outside. Even the collapse pattern suggested reinforcement work had once been done to preserve the building after earlier damage.

Which meant the structure had mattered.

"Secondary restoration phase," she murmured softly into her recorder. "Foundation stone and upper support composition do not match. Repairs likely occurred generations after original construction."

Only after several long moments did she finally move, though not toward the entrance.

Instead, she crossed to a relatively intact section of fallen stone near the edge of the courtyard and carefully lowered herself onto it. Her satchel slid into her lap as she opened it and withdrew a worn sketchbook, along with a stylus and a datapad already crowded with notes from earlier travels.

The sketchbook settled across her knees. Then she began to draw. Not quickly. Never quickly.

Her hand moved with deliberate precision, building the structure piece by piece rather than capturing it as a whole. First, the surviving foundation lines. Then the angle of the collapsed tower section. Support placement. Visible fractures. The positioning of the buried entrance relative to the outer columns. As she worked, smaller notes accumulated in the margins beside the sketch, compact observations written in narrow, careful script.

Possible archive annex. Exterior design favors movement efficiency over ceremonial symmetry. Repeated triangular motifs along support lines may indicate an indexing system.

Every so often, her gaze lifted from the page back toward the ruin, measuring proportions before committing them to paper. The process slowed her breathing, grounding her in familiar rhythm and structure while the wind shifted softly through the broken remains around her.

After several minutes, her attention narrowed toward one section of exposed stone near the entrance. A faint line of script. Immediately, the stylus paused.

Meri leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing as she studied the markings from a distance before turning to a clean section of the page and beginning another sketch entirely, this one focused only on the visible glyphs and their placement relative to the surrounding architecture.

Unlike the harsher ceremonial structures she had encountered elsewhere, these symbols possessed an ordered, almost academic rhythm. Repetition existed, but with consistency rather than reverence. The spacing resembled organizational notation more than devotional text.

That realization alone was enough to draw the faintest shift in her expression.

"Cataloging markers," she whispered, more to herself than the recorder now. "Not ritualistic."

The wind stirred again, carrying dust through the open courtyard as Meri continued sketching the ruin in careful silence, documenting every visible line before allowing herself to step any closer to whatever waited beneath the buried structure.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

Truthfully, Vendryn did very little in life simply for the joy of it; curiosity was, however, his vice of choice, and exploration his favorite tool. The ruins were old, and relatively inconsequential; believed to belong to an order of Jedi-oriented Monks, certainly some kind of Force-worshipping Order. No especially notable technologies, very little wider recognition. In truth, it was a ruin without much objective value, which meant it had not been picked over a thousand times by a thousand empires over the course of history. It was... a footnote on the pages, a passing remark, only a brief ripple on the waters. To Vendryn, that made it perfect.

Little value meant little competition, and little to no chance of a rival taking advantage of his excursion for their own gain. In short, practically a vacation for a well-established Sith Lord.

He carried himself with just a touch of the Force around him, reducing the weight of his passage so he could move with only the gentlest steps, small movements propelling him forward in graceful arcs.

The first sign of a disturbance was a quietness. Where elsewhere the animals sang and called and argued in a raucous chorus of voices, the path ahead was not. It could be attributed to the presence of the structure, but after so long abandoned it should have become just another feature of the forests. Quiet often indicated something unusual; it wasn't certain that there was another person present, but it didn't do to be incautious.

When he caught sight of the woman - No, girl - sitting at the edges of the ruins, he was taken aback. Who was this child? Why was she here?

When she leaned forward, flipping to another page, she briefly lifted the worn book, and he saw... sketches? Notes?

His confusion mounted, curiosity surging upward through it like a fish chasing sunlight. He finally tucked his lightsaber within the folds of his sapphire-and-gold robes, drawing his Authority inward until his aura was nearly nonexistent, and allowed his feet to settle onto the forest floor, taking a step forward with a loud crackle of branches and leaves. He put on an expression of feigned surprise at seeing her there, glancing around as if looking for others.

He did not speak at first, waiting to see how she reacted to his presence.

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

The crack of branches shattered the careful rhythm Meri had settled into, causing her head to snap up immediately while every line of her posture tightened with a sudden, sharp alertness. For an instant, she remained perfectly still, her gray eyes fixed toward the source of the sound while her thoughts rapidly reorganized themselves around this new, unexpected variable. The silence in the forest finally made sense to her, and she realized she was no longer alone in the ruins.

Slowly, she lowered the sketchbook into her lap rather than snapping it shut outright, though her fingers remained resting along the edge of the worn pages as if prepared to gather her belongings at a moment's notice. Her attention settled fully on the man emerging from the treeline, and despite her youth, there was a startling lack of carelessness in the way she studied his robes, his movement, and the deliberate way he carried himself. Even before she consciously understood why, something about his presence felt controlled in a manner that reminded her less of common travelers and more of dangerous things merely pretending not to be.

That realization did not incite panic, but it did make her more careful as she noticed the way his gaze dropped briefly toward her sketches. Instinctively, the sketchbook tilted slightly inward against her lap without becoming hidden entirely, a move that was not quite defensive enough to be accusatory, but just enough to reclaim ownership of her work. When he did not speak immediately, the silence stretched between them, forcing her to decide whether to break the tension or continue waiting for him to act first.

Ultimately, Meri chose precision over avoidance. "Most people do not come this far out unless they are looking for something," she said quietly, her voice carrying no challenge, but rather a simple, blunt observation.

The wind shifted softly through the broken ruins around them, stirring loose dust across the stone while her gaze remained fixed on him with calm, intelligent scrutiny. Up close, he did not resemble the scavengers or treasure hunters she had encountered elsewhere, primarily because there was too much composure in his stance and far too little restless greed in his eyes. This lack of an obvious motive made him significantly more difficult for her to categorize.

"You were moving quietly before that," she continued after a brief pause, her attention drifting momentarily toward the disturbed undergrowth behind him before returning to his face. "The branches sounded deliberate, as if you intended to be heard only when you chose to be." This was not an accusation, but a logical conclusion drawn from the evidence of his arrival.

Only then did she finally rise from the fallen stone where she had been seated, slipping the stylus carefully into the spine of the sketchbook before holding both against her chest as a makeshift shield. Even standing, she remained noticeably smaller and younger than him, though the height difference did not seem to intimidate her nearly as much as it probably should have.

"I am Meri Vale," she said, offering her name because she knew that establishing names created a necessary structure in uncertain situations. "I am documenting the ruins, as the external support placements suggest this was originally designed as an archive annex rather than a ceremonial structure, though the restoration phases clearly altered parts of the intended layout."

The explanation came naturally, almost automatically, as though discussing the architecture itself steadied her more effectively than focusing on the stranger standing before her. Then, after a moment's further consideration, she added with quiet directness: "What are you looking for?"

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

Vendryn seemed positively delighted by her acuity. "Very well spotted, miss Meri Vale." He clasped all four hands before him and bowed shallowly. "I am Vendryn, a... Fellow explorer, truth be told." He let all four eyes settle on her for a moment, before the secondary pair resumed sweeping his surroundings and inspecting the ruins, his primary gaze never shifting from her.

"Given how little interest the Monastery had drawn in the past, I did not expect there to be another living soul here." He paused. "An archive annex? Truly?" His upper right hand came to his chin in a thoughtful movement. "While this place has not been deeply investigated, it has been searched many times... I do not believe you are incorrect, but I find my curiosity piqued." His head tilted slightly, a measured, controlled movement. She was right to see him as dangerous; his inoffensive appearance was simply polite.

"I had hoped to explore this place, a little more than it had been. Perhaps uncover a path into the inner sanctum... Or the archive, if your guess is correct. Much of the mid-levels are either collapsed or flooded, so little effort was spared to investigating a monastery. Perhaps if we could find evidence within to support your conclusions, such investigations would be conducted in earnest."

He moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, and deflected off at an angle to move toward the ruins, still closing the distance with her.

"I enjoy exploration. It is not my... Primary calling, but it is a passion of mine."

His choice not to answer her 'observations' was deliberate. Even as he inspected the ruins a pair of eyes remained fixed upon her at all times.

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri listened carefully as he spoke, though the faint unease she felt did not entirely leave her.

It was not fear exactly. Nothing in his tone had become openly threatening, and yet there was something profoundly controlled about him that kept her attention sharpened. The way he moved. The way only part of his attention seemed directed toward the ruins while the rest remained steadily fixed on her. Even his politeness carried a structure too deliberate to feel entirely natural.

Still, curiosity outweighed discomfort. It usually did.

Her eyes followed him briefly as he angled toward the ruin, noting the measured precision in each movement before her gaze drifted back toward the broken structure itself. The sketchbook remained held against her chest, though her grip on it had loosened slightly now that the immediate uncertainty of his arrival had passed.

"Most people searching ruins look for relics first," she said quietly. "Weapons. Holocrons. Things they can remove and carry away." Her gaze shifted briefly toward him again. "They usually ignore structural intention unless it becomes inconvenient." There was no accusation in the observation. If anything, it sounded like disappointment earned through repetition.

Slowly, she stepped closer to one of the exposed columns near the entrance, lifting the sketchbook slightly as she referenced one of her earlier drawings before gesturing toward the surviving architectural lines.

"The outer supports are wrong for a monastery alone," she explained, her voice settling into a steadier rhythm now that she was discussing the ruin itself. "The weight distribution suggests reinforced storage levels beneath the visible structure. And the indexing glyphs repeat too consistently near transitional points to be devotional markers."

Her fingers traced the air near one of the carvings without touching it directly.

"Monastic architecture usually guides movement toward congregation spaces. This guides movement toward categorization." The faintest crease appeared between her brows as she studied the ruin again, thinking through the implications aloud. "If the lower sections flooded, then most investigators likely assumed the remaining chambers were either inaccessible or unstable."

A small pause followed. "Which means whatever remains down there may not have been disturbed properly." That realization carried enough weight to visibly sharpen her focus again.

Only after speaking did her attention return more fully to Vendryn himself. Up close, the unsettling quality about him persisted, though now it existed alongside something else: interest. He spoke about the ruins the way scholars sometimes did when they forgot to pretend they were detached from their work.

That, at least, she understood.

"You sound disappointed that exploration is not your primary calling," she observed softly. The statement emerged before she seemed to fully decide whether to say it aloud. Almost immediately afterward, her eyes shifted briefly away, as though she had become aware that the comment bordered too closely on personal interpretation.

"Or perhaps frustrated," she amended with quieter caution.

Then, after a brief hesitation, she added: "You move like someone accustomed to dangerous places." This time it was very clearly not a question.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

His laughter was warm and genuine, accepting but not mocking. Delighted. "Very astute, Meri Vale. Like a scalpel," he gestured as if delicately peeling something away with a knife, "Your mind peels back the ages to see what was. Very astute." He paused, hands settling to his sides. The only thing that betrayed the movements of his mind were the faint flickers of abortive motions, as if he was about to speak but changed his mind. Finally, he settled on nodding his head slightly, and answering in a meandering fashion, "The Galaxy is a dangerous place, and only rarely do we get to choose the path we take within it. Is it not so? Hemmed in by so many powerful fates, it can often feel as if such choices are out of our reach..."

He still did not directly address her question. "Exploration is what I do for pleasure. My primary calling is what grants me the freedom to travel. I find it to be a worthy exchange." He paused, finally turning his full focus to the ruins for a long moment. "It is part of why I choose places such as this," he gestured with a delicate movement, almost reverent. "A lack of distraction. The possibility of... Real discovery. Of course, it is perhaps one in three dozen places which holds anything of note... And I already have a good feeling about this one," a brief pause, "Meri Vale."

"What is your primary calling, Meri Vale? What brings you to places such as this? And all by yourself?" He tutted gently. "It's a dangerous galaxy, Meri Vale. Are you accustomed to dangerous places, as well?"

His gaze was coldly curious, all four eyes returning to settle upon her.

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri listened quietly as Vendryn spoke, her attention fixed on him with the same careful concentration she gave ancient texts whose meanings shifted depending on what was left unsaid. His answers wandered deliberately around her questions rather than through them, and while she noticed that immediately, she also recognized that the evasiveness itself was informative. People avoided direct answers for reasons, and usually important ones.

The warmth in his laughter unsettled her less than the cold precision in the attention that followed it. She had the distinct impression that he was examining her while simultaneously deciding how much of himself he wished to reveal, and the realization sharpened her own caution in response. Still, she found herself listening rather than withdrawing, because the way he spoke about ruins sounded sincere, and sincerity in places like this was uncommon enough to matter.

When he gestured toward the monastery with that near reverence, her eyes drifted briefly back toward the broken structure as well. The wind moved softly through the fractured stone, carrying dust along collapsed archways that had once guided people through ordered halls. Even abandoned, the place retained intention, and that alone made it difficult for her to look away from.

"Most discoveries are buried beneath places others decided were unimportant," she said quietly after a moment. "If something appears obvious, then someone has usually already taken it apart."

Her fingers shifted lightly against the edge of the sketchbook still held against her chest, grounding herself in the familiar weight of it while she considered the rest of his question. The phrase primary calling lingered awkwardly in her thoughts. It implied certainty, purpose already shaped and waiting to be stepped into, and Meri had never quite understood how other people arrived at such conclusions about themselves.

"I do not know if I have one," she admitted at last, her tone thoughtful rather than uncertain. "I study ruins. Languages. Systems people stopped understanding. That is simply what I continue returning to."

As she spoke, her posture relaxed slightly, not because she trusted him fully, but because discussing the ruins steadied her more effectively than speaking about herself ever could.

"Most beings look at places like this and see decay," she continued, glancing again toward the fractured monastery walls rising behind him. "I see structure surviving beyond the people who built it. Intent leaves patterns behind, even after destruction. Sometimes destruction creates patterns of its own."

The words came naturally now, carried by the same analytical rhythm she always slipped into when discussing architecture and history. Yet his final question lingered longer than she expected, pressing quietly against memories she usually kept sealed away beneath practicality and movement.

Are you accustomed to dangerous places? Her grip tightened subtly against the sketchbook. Not dramatically. Just enough for the shift to exist.

"I am accustomed to being careful," she said softly after a pause. "Those are not always the same thing."

There was no self-pity in the statement, only the calm recognition of someone who had learned young that caution was often the only reliable form of protection available to her.

The wind stirred softly between the ruined walls again, shifting strands of dark hair across her face while she studied him in return. The unease she felt around him had not disappeared, but it had changed shape somewhat. He no longer felt merely dangerous. He felt deliberate, like someone who had become dangerous through long familiarity with it rather than reckless embrace.

"You speak about danger as though it is familiar to you," she observed quietly, her gray eyes remaining fixed on him with thoughtful precision. "Not inconvenient. Familiar."

This time, the observation carried the faintest trace of caution beneath it, not fear exactly, but recognition of something she could not yet fully define.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

"It is," he answered her, softly, letting all four of his eyes peer into the middle distance. "It's never been far away, not far at all." He made a small, dismissive gesture. "Such is the nature of the beast. I cannot say it was unexpected; I went into it with my eyes quite open." He did not admit he was Sith, not outright, but there were few other explanations that would fit.

"But danger is not what I seek, nor what I bring with me here. No... Quite the opposite. It is only here, surrounded by little of consequence..." He smiled, "... To most... That I can be at peace. There is nothing worth struggling over, nothing to fight for or against. Usually, there's no one else who cares about it at all. Isn't your company a most wondrous surprise?" His smile was genuine, but uncomfortably wide.

"Even if you are... Accustomed to being careful, being out here all alone is an incredibly... incautious way to live." He narrowed his eyes. "How did you even get here? This place isn't exactly a common tourist destination, and I didn't see a transit stop on my trek through the forest. Out of respect for your evident intelligence I am going to assume you are not unarmed; please don't disabuse me of this notion." He held up a hand to forestall an immediate response.

"Know that, unless you attempt to pose a danger to me, you are far safer with me here than without. This is my place to escape violence, and I would not bring it here except of utmost necessity."

He peered at the ruins for a long moment, as if in thought, then muttered under his breath. "Except to droids. Too many extinct peoples leave behind droids, whether out of spite or simple forgetfulness. Ugh."

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri listened quietly while Vendryn spoke, her attention fixed on him with the same careful focus she had previously given the ruins themselves. The farther he explained his reasons for coming to places like this, the more she became aware of the strange contradiction he represented. There was danger in him, unmistakably so, woven through the edges of his presence in a way that kept some instinct deep within her alert and cautious. Yet there was also sincerity beneath his words when he spoke about peace, isolation, and the absence of struggle in forgotten places such as this one.

That contradiction unsettled her more than outright hostility might have.

When he referred to her presence as a wondrous surprise, her expression tightened almost imperceptibly at the unnerving width of his smile, though she made no visible move away from him. Instead, she lowered her gaze briefly toward the sketchbook still resting open in her lap, fingers lightly holding one of the pages in place against the faint movement of air drifting through the ruins.

"Most people do not find abandoned monasteries particularly relaxing," she observed quietly.

The dry understatement carried naturally beneath her words, though her attention returned to him fully a moment later as he questioned how she had arrived here alone. At the implication that she might be unarmed, one of her brows lifted faintly before she reached down toward the satchel resting beside her.

Very carefully, and without sudden movement, she unfastened one of the side clasps just enough to reveal the compact grip of a blaster secured within before closing the satchel again almost immediately.

"You need not worry," she said calmly. "I am not entirely incapable of basic self-preservation."

The statement sounded matter-of-fact rather than defensive, though there was perhaps the faintest suggestion that she had heard variations of this concern from other people before.

When Vendryn assured her she was safer with him than without, however, Meri fell quiet again for several moments. The claim should have sounded reassuring. Instead, the honesty behind it only deepened the strange uncertainty she felt as she stood near him. He spoke about violence the way someone accustomed to carrying it might speak about weather, not proudly, not apologetically, but with simple familiarity.

Her gray eyes studied him carefully.

"You speak as though danger follows you unwillingly," she said at last, her tone thoughtful rather than accusatory. "But most dangerous people I have encountered either deny it entirely or take pride in it. You seem to do neither."

The observation lingered quietly between them while the wind moved faintly through the old monastery ruins around them.

Then, somewhat unexpectedly, his final complaint about ancient droids caused the faintest shift at the corner of her mouth.

"That," she admitted softly, "is unfortunately one of the more credible warnings I have received."

Her gaze drifted back toward the towering structure beyond them, tracing its weathered architecture with visible fascination once more.

"Although if there are still active security systems here after this long," she continued thoughtfully, "then the preservation state of the lower archive levels may be considerably better than I initially estimated."

The possibility alone was apparently enough to momentarily overpower her caution again.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

"Where I come from, Meri Vale, ancient droids and collapsing ruins are amongst the least of my concerns." He gave a small laugh, clearly turning away from the subject, both literally and figuratively. He did not mention the blaster she showed him, but there was a look of... Pride, somehow? Pride in her? Pride in his estimation of her? That, combined with the odd emphasis on using her full name gave him an odd air.

He gestured to the ruin with his lower right arm. "You have a theory that this place is a data archive. Even if we cannot recover anything intact, it will be worthwhile to determine if this supposition has merit. I agree that the grounds for your belief seem solid, but only investigation can yield further results." He nodded, as if making a declaration to the ruins themselves, or perhaps the universe more generally; as if setting a task before himself.

He stepped past her, looking up at the ruins, then half-turned to glance back.

"So... Shall we?"

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri watched Vendryn, her gaze lingering as he dismissed the concept of danger with a laugh that felt entirely too comfortable. The ease of the gesture told her more than his words ever could; he moved with the practiced restraint of someone who had survived things far worse than crumbling ruins or rusted droids.

He was dangerous. Tthat much was a constant.

But the pride she had glimpsed in his expression when she revealed her blaster unsettled her. It was the look of a man who had already reached a conclusion about her, one she wasn't yet privy to. That, combined with the way he emphasized her name, sent a faint shiver of calculation through her.

Meri Vale.

The alias felt heavy in her mind. It was a useful mask, a layer of protection she had worn so long it usually felt like skin. But hearing him say it with such weight reminded her of the truth: he didn't actually know her at all. She had never given him her real name, yet he spoke the false one as if it held some profound significance.

She wasn't sure if that realization was a relief or a warning.

Pushing the thought aside, she turned her focus back to the monastery. The structure towered into the canopy, a silent giant being slowly reclaimed by the forest. At his mention of her archive theory, she glanced down at her sketchbook, carefully securing the stylus before rising to her feet.

"The architectural distribution is all wrong for a purely ceremonial site," she said, her voice regaining its analytical edge. "There is too much internal compartmentalization, and the lower supports are far more reinforced than a house of worship requires. Even the ventilation channels suggest a need for climate control rather than just airflow."

She let her eyes track the weathered stone upward.

"Archives are almost always positioned beneath the primary habitation levels. The ground provides a natural thermal buffer. If there is anything left to find, it will be in the dark."

The clinical explanation couldn't quite hide the spark of excitement in her tone. The mystery of the archive was a gravitational pull, one strong enough to momentarily offset the enigma of the man standing beside her. She stepped past her sketching spot and paused at his side, adjusting the strap of her satchel.

"Although," she added, her expression returning to that familiar, dry seriousness, "if you are right about the droids, I reserve the right to be deeply irritated when one inevitably tries to kill us."

After a heartbeat of hesitation, she inclined her head toward the shadowed entrance.

"Lead the way, Vendryn."

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

He smiled at her patiently, as if a teacher to a favored pupil. "As I said, your theory is strong, but only direct experimentation can verify results." He cleared his throat, and continued walking. "I will ensure any such irritation is as brief as possible. I have little patience for abandoned machines, especially when they're indiscriminate in their... preservation of the property." He still hadn't revealed any weapons, his lightsaber concealed by the folds of his robes.

He paused a moment, mid-stride, glancing back at her. He asked, sotto voce, "You do know how to swim, don't you?"

"So, you've been inspecting the markings on these ruins... If you find any which seem to indicate a path to our destination, or even just notable landmarks, please do bring them to my attention." His long strides carried him to the edge of the ruin itself, reaching out a lower hand to brush along the stone, almost as if in a caress. "Such curious places we leave... Such structures long outliving us. They stand so long as to be stripped of meaning, shells filled once more with identity... And then back into ruin. These are the cycles of the galaxy... As it is for people, is it not?" He glanced down at her, his pace slowing to allow her to catch up. He was visibly taking consideration to match the speed of her stride, slowing himself to not outrun her.

"Though I suppose you're still young enough to be going through your first purpose, are you not?" He did stop for another moment, giving her an appraising look. "You are young, correct, miss Meri Vale? Not one of the species which ages glacially? They can be so offputting... No offense intended, of course."

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri followed a step behind Vendryn as they approached the edge of the ruins, her attention shifting constantly between the ancient stonework around them and the strange cadence of his conversation. There was something unsettling in the way he spoke about abandoned places, not because his observations were wrong, but because he seemed to regard decay with a familiarity bordering on affection.

When he quietly asked whether she could swim, however, her expression tightened faintly.

"That question suggests you already know something unfortunate about where we are going," she observed dryly, though after a brief, practical pause, she added, "Yes. Adequately."

The answer carried the distinct tone of someone who considered swimming a vital survival skill rather than a recreational activity.

As Vendryn instructed her to watch for markings or directional indicators, Meri's focus immediately shifted more fully toward the ruin itself. Her fingers brushed lightly across portions of the weathered stone as they walked, tracing subtle grooves and structural inconsistencies while her eyes moved carefully across the surviving carvings. Unlike many explorers, she did not appear interested solely in obvious symbols or dramatic inscriptions, paying equal attention to erosion patterns, support placement, and the orientation of corridors relative to the surrounding terrain.

When Vendryn spoke about civilizations leaving structures behind long after meaning itself had faded, Meri grew quieter again, as the observation resonated with her more than she wanted to admit.

"I do not think meaning disappears as completely as people assume," she said thoughtfully after a moment. "Most of the time it simply becomes difficult to translate once the surrounding culture is gone."

Her gaze drifted upward along the fractured walls towering above them.

"Even ruins stripped nearly bare still reveal priorities like defensive positioning, water access, ritual movement, hierarchy, and fear. People preserve themselves unintentionally through architecture."

When Vendryn slowed his pace to accommodate her stride and then questioned her age, Meri blinked once in faint surprise before realizing he was genuinely uncertain.

"I am Epicanthix," she explained calmly. "We live somewhat longer than humans on average, but not dramatically so, and we are certainly not immortal."

The statement emerged with unusual firmness, though after a brief pause, the faintest trace of dry humor surfaced again to soften her tone.

"Though I suspect the galaxy occasionally feels immortal when viewed through archaeological timelines."

Her eyes shifted briefly toward him again as they continued deeper along the ruin's outer pathways.

"And yes, I am young," she added thoughtfully, offering simple acknowledgment rather than embarrassment. "Though judging by your phrasing, I suspect you are considerably older than you initially appeared."

The final observation was delivered with the same calm, analytical tone she used for everything else, yet beneath it now lingered a genuine curiosity.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

"Well, reports do say the middle levels are flooded, at least in parts. We can probably avoid it if we're careful, but... Well, I'd rather know now than find out the hard way, hmn?" His lower hands clasped together behind his back as he ambled toward the main doors of the ruin. He took in the markings around the doorframe. He glanced back at her as she spoke, nodding as she explained her species, listening as she spoke of history and architecture. He did seem relieved that she was, in fact, young. He did not, however, address her statement; his age was hardly relevant here. Besides which, it was fun to keep her guessing...

DANGER
STRUCTURE UNSTABLE

WARNING
THIS IS AN ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITE

DANGER
WATER HAZARD
​

Vendryn clicked his tongue chidingly at the signs that had been securely bolted beside the doors, giving them a gentle push. The door remained firm, for a moment, before yielding at his insistent pressure, slowly grinding open on hinges long-since rusted. He carefully pushed the other door fully open, letting the outside light trickle in, illuminating a hallway that had clearly seen a great deal of exposure. What had once been machine-smooth duracrete was now pitted and overgrown, the doors' seals long since eroded beyond usefulness. The walls bore marks of later additions: Cruder drill-marks where lights had been added or removed, simple torch sconces hung here and there where they had been hammered into the walls. The only illumination came in behind them, barely lighting the first twenty feet or so.

The lanky Volpai reached down to his waist, a hand sliding beneath the robes... and drawing out, of all things, a simple light with a forehead strap, as well as a smaller flashlight that he strapped onto the back of his left hand. The headlamp flickered into bright, clear white light, a wide angle illumination that flooded the space before him. The smaller light attached to his hand shined a much longer, narrower beam that shone so bright it banished the shadows within a narrow cone.

He fell silent as the presence of the place settled around them, his foot just over the line between natural light and darkness, as if weighing the moment in his mind.

He tucked his robe closed again, tugging the sash tighter around himself... an unconscious gesture that served to, oh so briefly, outline the unusual length of his lightsaber against his side.

He did not seem to notice if she saw or not; his eyes were focused on the deeper darkness within.

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri followed a few steps behind Vendryn as they approached the main entrance of the ruin, her attention shifting instinctively between the structure itself and the details surrounding it. Even before the doors opened, she found herself studying the warning signs bolted beside the frame with visible interest rather than deterrence.

The archaeological markers were comparatively recent additions, industrial and practical in design, completely at odds with the age-softened stone surrounding them. Someone had attempted preservation here once, or at the very least containment, though judging by the corrosion spreading around the bolts and the vegetation reclaiming portions of the outer wall, those efforts had long since been abandoned.

When Vendryn clicked his tongue at the warnings, the corner of Meri's mouth twitched faintly upward.

"I appreciate that the signs specify both structural collapse and drowning," she observed dryly. "It suggests a commendable commitment to comprehensive disaster management."

Still, despite the humor beneath the remark, she instinctively adjusted the strap of her satchel higher against her shoulder before stepping closer to the doorway once the ancient doors finally yielded open.

The interior beyond immediately captured her complete focus.

Meri fell quiet.

The ruin no longer resembled a preserved temple or formal excavation site. It looked wounded by time itself. The once-smooth duracrete walls had become uneven and fractured from decades of exposure, while creeping vegetation and moisture stains spread through the lower sections of the corridor. Yet beneath the decay, she could still see the original precision of the structure, the deliberate geometry hidden underneath later damage and scavenger alterations.

Her eyes tracked slowly across the added sconces and crude drill marks cut into the walls long after the original builders vanished.

Intrusions.

Temporary adaptations imposed onto something much older.

"Someone tried to inhabit this place after it was abandoned," she murmured thoughtfully, stepping closer to inspect one of the rough mounting points near the entrance. "Or at least use it regularly enough to justify modifying the corridors."

The observation seemed to settle naturally into place within her mind as she traced the damaged wall briefly with her fingertips.

Then Vendryn produced the lights. Meri blinked once. The practicality of it contrasted strangely against the almost theatrical aura he otherwise carried, though she supposed ancient ruins cared very little for appearances when darkness became absolute. As the brighter beam swept deeper into the hallway, her gaze followed it instinctively into the deeper shadows beyond the reach of natural light.

And there, standing at the edge between illumination and darkness, Vendryn changed subtly. Not physically, but atmospherically, and how he carried himself.

The silence settling around him no longer resembled simple curiosity. It felt reverent. Measured. Like someone standing before something ancient enough to command instinctive caution.

As he adjusted his robe, Meri caught the brief outline of something long and metallic beneath the folds before the fabric settled again. The observation registered immediately, quietly rearranging several assumptions she had already begun forming about him. She said nothing.

Instead, she stepped carefully past the threshold herself, pausing only briefly as the deeper darkness and stale air of the ruin settled fully around them. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Outside had felt overgrown and abandoned; inside felt preserved in a way that made the silence itself seem heavier.

Meri reached into her satchel and withdrew her own smaller flashlight, clicking it on before angling the beam low across the floor rather than directly ahead.

"The water damage is worse along the lower walls," she observed thoughtfully after another moment. "If the flooding spread gradually rather than catastrophically, there may still be sealed sections deeper inside that remained intact."

Despite every warning sign bolted outside the entrance, the growing fascination in her eyes made it painfully obvious she already wanted to find them.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

Vendryn strode forward with slow, cautious strides, peering up at the walls and down at the floor, inspecting the walls for markings or guidance. Slow, steady steps carried him to an intersection, three paths branching out ahead of them. The hallways curved or turned before long, concealing what lay down their passages.

Small inscriptions stitched themselves along the seams in the stone, clearly two different languages; the first was engraved with precision and care into the stonework, while the other was clearly a later addition; the data archive, and the monastery. Vendryn peered at it thoughtfully... and then took a step back, gesturing her forward with the hand light. "What do you make of it, Meri Vale? Which passage do you think will bring us closer to the Archives?"

He swept his headlamp back and forth over the intersection, looking for anything else of interest, while his hand-lamp stayed focused on the cluster of text.

"Perhaps if we can find some kind of utilities area, we might be able to restore limited power, perhaps activate pumps for the lower levels. If this area was prone to flooding, they might have prepared for such an occasion. Perhaps not, also," he acknowledged with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "In the worst case... Well, I am a good swimmer. I'd rather not if the option is there, but I am not averse to such risks."

He watched her curiously to see how she drew her conclusions, and what decisions she made. He seemed as curious to witness the process as he was of its outcome, keeping his expression carefully neutral as if he suspected which direction to go but did not want to influence her decision.

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri stepped carefully closer to the intersection once Vendryn gestured her forward, her flashlight lowering instinctively while her attention fixed almost entirely on the inscriptions stitched into the seams of the stonework. The contrast between the two layers of writing became obvious almost immediately. One belonged to the original structure itself, engraved with precise geometric consistency and cleanly integrated into the architecture, as though the builders had intended the text to remain part of the walls permanently. The second layer lacked that same harmony. Its markings had been added later, practical and functional rather than ceremonial, likely by the monastery occupants who inherited the ruin long after its original purpose faded.

She crouched slightly near the wall, brushing her fingers lightly along the older engravings without fully touching them.

The original language was unfamiliar.

Not entirely alien, but structurally different enough from the historical dialects, she could only isolate fragments and repeated symbolic patterns rather than true meaning. The monastery additions, however, proved significantly easier to interpret. Time and erosion had damaged portions of the script, but enough remained intact for her to piece together rough directional references.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she traced the symbols with the edge of her light.

"The newer inscriptions appear to be navigational annotations," she observed quietly. "Or at least functional markers added after the monastery occupied the structure."

She shifted her attention slowly between the three branching corridors.

"This one references storage and lower access," she said, angling her flashlight briefly toward the left passage. "The central corridor appears connected to communal or ceremonial areas."

Then her light settled toward the third corridor on the right.

Meri remained silent for several extra seconds there, studying not only the markings but the corridor itself.

Unlike the others, subtle differences emerged once she stopped focusing exclusively on the writing. The floor along the right-hand path sloped almost imperceptibly downward, while faint mineral staining along the lower walls suggested prolonged moisture exposure. More importantly, the corridor itself appeared slightly narrower and structurally reinforced, as though designed to protect something sensitive from collapse or environmental fluctuations.

That caught her attention immediately.

"This direction," she finally said, straightening slowly while indicating the right-hand corridor with her flashlight. "I cannot fully translate the older script, but structurally it makes the most sense."

Her voice grew more thoughtful as she mentally reconstructed the surrounding architecture.

"Archives are generally positioned away from high-traffic communal spaces and protected from environmental instability whenever possible. Even after the flooding, this corridor appears more deliberately reinforced than the others."

She glanced briefly toward the ceiling and adjoining seams in the walls.

"The monastery additions also become less intrusive here. That suggests the later inhabitants either had less access to this section or considered it less useful to repurpose."

Which, to Meri, made it considerably more interesting.

When Vendryn mentioned restoring pumps and utilities, her gaze drifted farther into the dark corridor ahead while she considered the possibility seriously.

"If emergency systems still exist, they would most likely be located near maintenance arteries rather than the archive itself," she replied thoughtfully. "Though if the flooding became severe enough, lower utility corridors may have failed first."

A faint crease appeared between her brows.

"Still… if the original builders considered the archives important enough, there is a reasonable chance they engineered redundancies into the structure."

Then, after another brief pause, the corner of her mouth lifted faintly again.

"Also, while I appreciate your confidence regarding underwater exploration," she added dryly, "I would personally prefer not to discover ancient submerged ruins through direct drowning experience."

Despite the humor beneath the statement, the growing focus in her expression made it painfully obvious she was already mentally descending deeper into the structure ahead of them.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

Pride lit his smile as he nodded. "I agree with your assessment." He gestured to the narrower width of the hallway, as well as the downward slope of the hall. "I had noticed the slope, but I had not thought of the thickness of the walls. You are right that it would provide more protection to that route in case of catastrophic damage."

"The slope is rather gradual... If it stays constant, it would seem it likely runs most of the length of the building." He took the lead once more, sweeping the hand-light ahead, moving between inspecting the ceiling and corners to checking out the floor ahead for obstacles or security devices. Small broken bulbous shapes nested along the corners of the ceiling, nestled in the heart of the gentle thirty degree turns that marked the hallway every so often, clearly former emplacements for cameras. Not all of them, however, were broken. A couple were still intact, seamless black orbs peering at them like eldritch eyes.

Vendryn slowed as they passed each one, and he seemed to be scrutinizing them intently, a frown on his lips. Finally he stopped next to one, staring at it for long seconds before raising a hand to indicate the small beaded weld along the edge; clear signs of one having been repaired. Through the one-way glass it was nearly impossible to tell if there was anything inside, and the lanky Volpai held his gaze on it for several seconds before finally stating, "Perhaps... Not entirely abandoned, then." His lips were a thin line as he moved to proceed deeper in, along that same gentle slope.

"If you do not think you can fight, run, Meri Vale. I will fare well enough on my own. If you can fight, stay close to me." A pause, then he muttered under his breath, "I hope it will not come to that, but I am becoming less certain." As he walked, his lower hands drifted outward, making small gestures at his side.

Faint emanations of the Force rippled outward from his palms with each gesture, gently touching and pressing on the walls as he walked, searching, feeling for secret doors or covered emplacements. The tendrils of energy crawled out ahead of them, staying a handful of steps ahead. To one sensitive to the Force, it was faint but present, a faint nimbus of energy clinging to the passage ahead; it left no mark visible to the eyes save for the faint brush of energy over the occasional small clump of moss being rolled flat for an instant before the pressure slid away.

Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri followed several steps behind Vendryn as they descended farther into the reinforced corridor, her flashlight sweeping carefully across the walls while her thoughts continued quietly reconstructing the structure piece by piece. The gradual slope beneath their feet became more noticeable the deeper they traveled, and now that Vendryn had pointed it out, she found herself mentally tracing how far the passage might extend beneath the surrounding terrain before reaching whatever lower archive systems the original builders intended to protect.

When he acknowledged her assessment regarding the reinforced walls, a faint trace of satisfaction flickered across her expression, though it remained subdued beneath her usual composure.

"Structural preservation priorities tend to reveal what a civilization considered irreplaceable," she observed quietly, angling her light briefly toward the seams in the walls. "People rarely reinforce areas they consider temporary or expendable."

As they continued deeper, however, her attention gradually shifted from the architecture itself toward the corridor's unsettling details. The broken camera housings embedded near the corners of the ceiling already suggested the place had once maintained active surveillance systems long after its original construction, but the intact black orbs disturbed her considerably more than the ruined ones did—especially once Vendryn pointed out the repair work.

Meri slowed beside him, narrowing her eyes toward the thin weld line around the casing. Even without climbing close enough to inspect it directly, the repair marks looked far too clean to belong to the ruin's original age.

"…that is not ancient damage," she said softly after several seconds. "At least not the repair itself."

The realization settled heavily between them: someone had maintained these systems, or had at least tried to. Her grip tightened slightly around the flashlight as Vendryn warned her to run if fighting became necessary, the calm practicality in his voice disturbing her more than overt fear would have. He spoke like someone so accustomed to danger that contingency plans emerged automatically.

"I sincerely hope your confidence regarding independent survival is not tested," she replied dryly, though the humor beneath the remark came quieter now, muted by the growing tension threading through the corridor.

Then, gradually, her attention shifted again. Not visually this time.

Something subtle moved ahead of them. At first, she mistook it for static sensitivity from the old systems buried in the walls, but the sensation repeated itself in soft waves spreading outward from Vendryn's hands. It felt strangely similar to the quiet awareness she had experienced before around Master Vex and later within the temple beneath Naboo, though this manifestation appeared more deliberate and controlled. The Force drifted outward from him in careful tendrils, brushing gently across walls and hidden seams like invisible fingertips searching through the dark.

Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Meri did not comment on the phenomenon or allow even a flicker of recognition to cross her face. Instead, she studied the corridor ahead with the appearance of someone focused entirely on her physical surroundings, all while privately tracking the strange pressure rolling softly across the walls around them. Every time those unseen currents passed over loose moss or disturbed dust near hidden seams, her eyes followed the reactions instinctively, quietly incorporating the information into her own observations without acknowledging the true source aloud.

The sensation unsettled her less now than it once would have, a realization that honestly unsettled her considerably more.

"If these surveillance systems remained operational long enough for someone to repair portions of them," she said thoughtfully after a moment, carefully redirecting her attention back toward the corridor itself, "then there is a reasonable chance portions of the infrastructure deeper below retained auxiliary power far longer than the surface levels. Which means your theory regarding functional pumps may unfortunately be becoming more plausible."

Her flashlight swept slowly farther down the sloping corridor, and she paused before adding more quietly, "Though I am becoming increasingly concerned that we are no longer exploring ruins in the traditional archaeological sense."

The corridor ahead no longer felt abandoned. It felt dormant.

Vendryn Del'therak

 

[Vendryn Del'therak]

"That is my concern," he murmured agreement, peering up at another one of the orbs as they passed it. His fingers twitched at his side, his upper right hand clenching and unclenching as if he were fighting the urge to destroy or disable the possibly nonfunctional cameras. He paused, finally, as they reached a landing. A path appeared on their left-handed side, enclosed by a sturdy-looking door. More signs were stuck to the wall beside it.

WARNING
WATER HAZARD

DANGER
UNSTABLE PASSAGES
DO NOT ENTER​

And yet something seemed off about them... They didn't match the style of the signs above. Cruder, not engraved like the ones above. The style and colors were similar and yet... Not quite the same. Partially it was the material itself; they seemed well-made and of good quality. The print was clear and sharp-edged, not seeming terribly worn like the signs outside. They didn't look like the mass-produced and generic warnings above.

Vendryn paused at the center of the intersection, letting his gaze wander between the unobstructed passage and the closed door beside them.

"Hmn... I don't trust this, I don't think." He frowned suspiciously. "I do not trust it at all."

He let his mind wander for a moment even as tendrils of energy nudged at the fringes of the door, looking for weaknesses, shifting it gently in its frame, prying delicately at the locking mechanism, trying to determine if it was even still functional. While he felt around the fringes with his mind, he glanced aside to Meri, and canted his head slightly. "Have you fought before? Have you killed before? I know the Galaxy can be an unkind place. Would that children would know not the darkness," he stated, without a trace of irony, "But only the lucky can remain ignorant for long, don't you think? Either very lucky or very foolish."

His voice dropped, a little lower, as if half-uncertain if he wanted her to hear his words. "You do not strike me as either, Meri Vale."

Meri Vale